


Losing Face

by Thatonefanfictionwriter



Series: Your City Gave Me Asthma Songfics [4]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst with a Happy Ending, Don't ship real people kids, Fictional personas, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, jschlatt is a ram, no beta we die like men, they're married your honor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:20:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29410401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thatonefanfictionwriter/pseuds/Thatonefanfictionwriter
Summary: In a world full of bad apples there’s always an angel; Schlatt thinks he’s found her, but what happens if he realises he’s wrong?
Relationships: Jschlatt/Wilbur Soot
Series: Your City Gave Me Asthma Songfics [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2155641
Comments: 1
Kudos: 53





	Losing Face

**Author's Note:**

> This is the fourth part of my series for Your City Gave Me Asthma; I'm gonna be writing a fic based on each song (with Wilbur in of course) though it may vary with tones, things like that. The author is sad right now so angst for the time being.
> 
> I appreciate all the love the series has been getting and I love to read everyone's comments so if you do comment I will reply, I love talking to y'all. Thank you to the person who reached out to me on Discord telling me how they liked my writing, that was so fucking sweet of you!!
> 
> If you need someone to talk to or even mess around with please message me and we can talk, my discord is: Pint Sized Big Q#8652

He was drunk again.

It was no surprise; he was always a bit on the tipsy side but today he was almost blackout drunk; the whiskey bottle clutched firmly in hand and held if a lethal weapon even though it was still half full, the swaying of his body to the silent beat of the music and noise at the bar, and the slight drool that was falling down the side of his face. He was a mess and rightfully so, it had been a month and he still couldn’t help but think about her. What was wrong with him? Was he not good enough? Was he not the perfect Ken to her Barbie? So many questions unanswered; left unanswered. As he took swig after swig he fell further and further into is alcohol-induced depression, the tears welling up in his eyes as he’d been cut off for the third time that night. 

**_Shit… Onto another bar..._ **

_ He never wanted her to leave, he tried his hardest, was he really not enough? Was he really not enough to make those pretty girls happy, to keep them satisfied? He had left on their anniversary, gifts on the table, food made, him waiting patiently at the table. An hour passed, maybe two; the steak was getting colder by the minute until it felt like the room was freezing, or maybe it was the overwhelming dread that settled in the bottom of his stomach. He wanted to believe that she was just running late, that her job at the diner was just running a little late and that he could wait for her to come back. In his pocket sat something very precious for him, something that signified his sobriety and their love for each other. He was ready for that commitment; at least, that’s what he believed…  _

_ As the hours went on, his small ram tail stopped wagging, his animalistic ears folding down as the time went on. She wasn’t coming, was she? He was more upset than anything but that was fine, he’d just do this on another big event, maybe her birthday? Or a promotion? Or maybe even wait next year until the next anniversary. He could wait, he promised himself he could wait. That night he decided to eat his food and put hers in the fridge for a little later, his angel could eat it later… He had spent so much time making everything perfect, they were so happy, there wasn’t anything wrong. This was just a little upsetting bump, he promised himself it was. _

_ He went to bed alone that night.  _

_ When he woke up the next morning, he didn’t wake up to his usual good morning kiss on his cheek, her arms around him softly as she got up for work, there was no hellos or goodbyes… The house was sparse, nothing to indicate anyone had come home. It was almost like she was gone forever… But that wasn’t it, right? No, his angel wouldn’t just leave without telling him anything; but that’s exactly what happened… No text, no note, keeping him in the dark, worried about her… That was until a few weeks later as he was going to work, he spotted her, his angel. In the arms of someone else… _

It broke him, and that’s what sent him spiralling back into his bad habits, the man staggering through the streets and complaining to any drunkard or druggie on the street that would listen, all of them agreeing with him; that he wasn’t an angel like he had believed her to be.  **She was a lying, manipulative, cheating bitch** … He wasn’t his angel at all, she was a demon in disguise. He wanted to kill her, suppressing his urges for violence with alcohol, which made him start to wallow in self-pity. That’s when his phone went off for the first time in a while; it had rung three times so far, but he had ignored them. Maybe he shouldn’t have as he picked up to a rather concerned voice travelling down the phone to him, beckoning him home.

“Schlatt, where are you? It’s really late and I made us dinner since you did last night, I was hoping we could eat together?”

That voice, that angelic fucking voice, the voice laced with worry and anxiety as he asked the younger male to eat with him; he was close enough to home, so why the fuck not? He just grunted into the phone and started the walk home, his unsteadiness making it a little hard as he practically limped to one side as he got to the door, doing the only sensible thing he knew how to do and headbutting the door instead of knocking; that’s what rams do, right? He didn’t care until the man opened the door and sighed softly, seeing the state he was in and walking him indoors to eat.

Wilbur had always been an angel, worried for other people, putting others before himself, looking after him after these drunk walks. He was basically his own personal nurse and it helped a lot, feeding him, getting him to bed, staying with him when he threw up in the morning; in exchange, he would help with his episodes, attacks and keep him from hurting himself. It was a ying-yang dynamic, one couldn’t function and live without the other. It was honestly a miracle they had made it this far without each other. In the middle of standing there, babbling nonsense as he was undressed from Wilbur, the taller chuckled and smiled. It was quite a simple gesture but it made Schlatt’s heartbeat twice as fast, the redness on his cheeks due to the alcohol draining away to reveal the blush that was forming on his cheeks. 

Hat’s when he felt it, the nagging of the God of love, enticing him to look up at and study Wilbur more, revealing the fact that should have been clear from the start; one painfully obvious detail about his best friend that nothing other than his drunken stupor would make him realise. The bitch he had known as his girlfriend wasn’t his angel, not the angel he was looking for. But Wilbur, his snow-white skin contrasting with his dark hazel eyes that reflected with golden flecks, his chocolate coloured curls that spilt out from yet another beanie he wore; his soft smile and his rosy cheeks making him challenge aphrodite herself… He was perfect; he was sweet and kind, his generosity unmatched… 

He was his angel…

And now here they were, curled into each other as the warm sun rose, no hangover in sight as he opened his eyes to observe and appreciate the taller man who’s feet nearly hung off the bed. His soft, peacefully sleeping face basked in the glow of the daylight, only shaded by the ram as he leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. 

“My beautiful angel…”


End file.
